


The Way You Fall Asleep

by narry (orphan_account)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, TW: Eating Disorder, TW: Self Harm, rehab center, this is really cliche, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-31
Updated: 2013-12-28
Packaged: 2017-12-13 12:33:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/824355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/narry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Since they can't seem to save themselves, Harry and Niall decide to save each other.<br/>Told in a series of 500 word drabbles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Begining

**Author's Note:**

> Title from this quote:  
> "...I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once."  
> -John Green, The Fault in Our Stars

                The thick, sterile gauze wound tightly around Harry’s forearms and thighs rubbed against his mutilated flesh and made walking a chore. “This is for your own good, Harry, we only want to help you” the doctors had told him before they carted him off to Sturdy Oak Rehab Centre. Did they _really_ think this would help him? Sure, he would be temporarily alright while in a sheltered environment _designed_ to help him. It couldn’t make the problems that awaited him once he returned home, the problems that had first driven him to self-harming, go away.

                “They’re going to help you here” his mum’s voice echoed in his skull as his bags were taken to be searched through.

“Hello, Harry,” a nurse in Snoopy scrubs with pretty blond ringlets framing her kind, heart-shaped face greeted him as she entered the lobby. Harry remembered her from his tour of the hospital; her name was Melody and Harry like her because she didn’t baby the patients like most of the nurses in the facility. “Are you ready to go back?”

Harry shrugged and followed as Melody led him through a maze of closed in beige hallways and electronically locked gates to a row of identical metal doors distinguishable only by the large black numbers printed on them. He remembered from the tour he’d taken of the hospital a few weeks ago that these were the bedrooms. The nurse flashed her ID at a little screen outside of the room marked 309. Harry could hear the metal gears inside the door turning as it was unlocked. Melody pushed the door open and led Harry through.

The room was pretty unremarkable; just two beds, one against each wall, and a large dresser pressed against the far wall. The lights were off and there were no windows, so it took a few seconds for Harry to notice the boy who was already in the room, sat cross-legged on one of the two beds.

                Maybe ‘boy’ wasn’t the right word, as the other guy appeared to be about the same age as Harry. The guy in question sat stoically on his bed eyes closed with his head leaned back against the wall. He was bone thin, the skin on his face stretched too tight over sharp bones and if Harry had to guess why he had been hospitalized, he would say anorexic. His stick-like fingers beat rhythmically against his bony knees and Harry thought he was imagining some sort of music.

“Niall? I’m turning the light on,” Melody addressed, and the boy ( _Niall_ , Harry’s brain reminded him) turned to look at her and Harry. A shudder ran down Harry’s spine as their eyes met. His blue-grey eyes were as steely and piercing as the razors that had shredded Harry’s skin.  His gaze was intense, even though his face appeared passive.

“Okay,” he muttered emotionlessly. His voice was warped by a heavy Irish accent that Harry found oddly appealing.

“Harry,” Melody said, turning to him, “this is Niall.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is basically the 30 day writing challenge completed in 500 word drabbles


	2. Accusation

                “You’ve been lying to the doctors,” Harry stated as he was dressing (or, rather undressing) for bed.

                Niall poked his head out of his cocoon of blankets, under which he was changing into his pyjamas. “What?” he asked.

                “About eating,” the younger boy clarified as he peeled his dark jeans off of his legs. “You told them that you’ve been eating.”

                Niall rolled his steely grey eyes before ducking back into his small fort. “I _am_ eating, Harry,” came his soft reply.

                “Not really. You only eat about three bites of whatever lunch they serve and throw the rest away or give it to someone else.”

“That’s more than I eat at home,” Niall grumbled, crawling out from his blankets in a pair of black trackies and a giant cream-coloured jumper that fell to his knees and past his bony fingertips. Harry watched as the blonde padded to the bathroom and he had to hand it to Niall. The boy was smart about the way he dressed; you could hardly tell that he was skin and bones underneath his cosy looking outfit.

“How come you don’t like eating?” Harry asked tentatively, as he knew it was probably a touchy subject.

He didn’t expect an answer from Niall. He probably wouldn’t answer if someone asked him why he sliced his skin. He was surprised when he actually got one.

“Because I’m fat,” Niall said as if it was the most obvious thing on the planet, and he shrugged as he waited for the tap to get warm so he could wash his face.

“Niall, you are a walking skeleton,” Harry said exasperatedly.

“No, I’m like a fucking whale,” Niall insisted as he splashed the lukewarm water on his sunken face. “My stomach and thighs are fucking ginormous. I’m absolutely huge.”

It was sad, because Harry thought Niall actually believed these things about himself.

“You hardly even _have_ a stomach and your legs are like sticks; I’m surprized your legs don’t snap every time you stand up.”

“I’m surprised they don’t snap under my titanic weight,” Niall retorted, finishing up in the bathroom and slipping back into the room. “I’m just all messed up.”

“You’re not messed up,” Harry said as he flicked the light off and clambered into bed in his boxers.

 “We’re all messed up, Harry,” Niall grumbled as he buried himself under the mountain of blankets on his bed. “That’s why we’re here.”

“I don’t think you’re messed up,” Harry said earnestly. “You’re just sick; you just need a little help.”

“Yeah, well convince my dad of that,” Niall said bitterly. “The last thing he told me before I checked in here was ‘don’t come back ‘til you’re fixed.’”

Harry’s chest tightened in sympathy. His mum and sister had both been supportive when he was admitted to the hospital, both kissing him lovingly and telling him to get better real fast so he could come home real soon. “I’m sorry, Ni,” Harry whispered sincerely. “I think you’re absolutely wonderful.”


	3. Restless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long i've had a ton of personal problems lately

Harry stared up at the dark ceiling, mind whirling even as he was trying to will himself to sleep. The small clock on Niall’s desk blinked with the numbers 3:24 am. He heaved a heavy, long suffering sigh and wished, not for the first time, that he were back home. At least at home he could sneak into the medicine cabinet after his mum and sister had fallen asleep and take a few sleeping pills so he could drift off, if only for a little while.

He’d had insomnia since he was little, a side effect of his depression. When he was twelve and his depression really spiked, they put him on a couple of anti-depressants and those worsened his insomnia to a point where it was impossible for him to get some sleep. He’d been getting by for years by sneaking off and taking a small handful of sleeping pills at night. They only allowed him to sleep for about three hours before they wore off and Harry’s insomnia regained control, but those few hours were enough to let his mother sleep in peace without having to worry about him, so he kept it up. No one knew his secret; his doctors just assumed he’d grown out of his sleeping disorder, or that the anti-depressants were somehow aiding it.

Since they weren’t part of his prescription, and no one knew he took them anyway, Harry knew the sleeping pills would be confiscated the minute he stepped foot inside of the hospital so he didn’t even pack them. And now he was struggling to get by without them.

He’d tried all of the exercises he could remember that his therapists had suggested for him before he starting taking the pills; counting to one hundred, taking controlled breaths, and day dreaming. But he couldn’t seem to shut his mind off long enough to get a few decent hours of rest.

He heaved another small sigh and turned over on his side, facing Niall’s bed. He could barely see the other boy; the blonde was curled around himself in his mound of blankets, bony arms wrapped around equally skinny knees, protecting himself even in sleep. His face was relaxed and the scowl that seemed to be permanently etched onto his sharp features was absent. His face actually looked a lot softer.

His long, dark eyelashes fanned out over his razor-sharp cheekbones and his thin lips were parted ever so slightly, moving almost imperceptibly. Harry could hear the shallow rush of air from them as the older boy whispered gently in his sleep.

Harry had noticed him sleep talking before, as he watched the older boy sleep nearly every night. He wasn’t trying to be creepy, but Niall was just really… gorgeous when he slept. He looked like a dehydrated angel fallen to earth.

Harry strained to hear Niall’s soft words, and was completely flabbergasted when he finally understood the word that the other boy was repeating like a mantra was his name. 


	4. Snowflake

When Harry got back to the room from his biweekly therapy session, (grumbling as he shook the snow out of his dampened curls) he was surprised to find it empty. Unless he was in the café or he was in therapy himself, Niall tended to stay holed up inside their room. He quickly checked the bathroom for the blonde before venturing out into the hallway to look for his friend.

                He finally did find Niall, curled up on the window seat in the near empty common room. He was wrapped up inside of an alarmingly orange sweat shirt that was much too big for him, with the sleeves tucked into themselves to make mittens and the collar stretched out of shape, and a pair of dark track suit pants to keep out the December air that chilled even the inside of the facility’s buildings.

                “Hey, buddy,” Harry said softly as he sat down next to Niall. The blond jumped slightly, then pulled his legs in to give Harry more room (even though Niall was so small Harry could have probably laid down in the space left that he didn’t already take up).

                “Hey,” he mumbled in answer, voice sounding sadder and more distant than usual.

                Harry’s eyebrows furrowed. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, scooting minutely closer.

                Niall shrugged and Harry saw the twisting of his fingers underneath the sleeves of his sweater. “Snow makes me miss my mate Liam,” he said after a few minutes of silence. “Erm, this is his sweater,” he added, gesturing to the orange monstrosity he was swaddled in. “We dated for a little while when we were fourteen, and he always called me his ‘Special Snowflake’.”  He shrugged again and the stretched out neck dipped a little to show one of Niall’s sharp collarbones.

                “Are you still together?” Harry asked, pulling his knees up and resting his chin against them.  A wave of discomfort (and maybe even a little jealousy) washed over him and he didn’t want to think about why. Niall shook his head. “What happened?”

                The older boy’s lips turned up in a small, fond smile. “Still best mates; just not _soul_ mates.”

                A comfortable silence flowed between the two of them for a while before Niall spoke up again. The smile had left his face and was replaced by a sad little expression. “He’s the one who sent me here. My dad doesn’t give a shit about me so I basically live over at Li’s house. He found out about my diet and told his ma and they got me put in here.”

                “Oh, I’m sorry babes,” Harry said sincerely, reaching out and resting his hand on top of Niall’s.

                “It’s alright,” Niall said, the fond smile back. He wiggled his hand free from the sweater and turned it upwards, slotting his fingers in between Harry’s. His cheeks were slightly pink from something other than the chill outside as he looked up at Harry through his eyelashes. “I found something good here.”


	5. Haze

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha this sucks bye  
> i'm on tumblr at storanbells if you're into that sorta thing

Niall woke up to a pounding in his head and a slightly uncomfortable itch in the back of his throat. He cleared his throat lightly and squinted at his clock. It read 6:45, only 15 minutes before he had to be up for his first therapy session of the day.

            After a quick moment of thought, he concluded that he wouldn’t have time to go back to sleep so after a swift glance at Harry to make sure the other boy was asleep, he slipped out of his bed and padded into the bathroom.

            Niall turned the shower on nearly scalding and sat on the closed toilet lid until the mirror was fogged up enough that he was sure he wouldn’t see his reflection as he stripped and stepped into the shower.

            As the blonde stood in the shower, his headache intensified and the steam loosened something in his chest, causing the itch in his throat to morph into a thick cough. As he hacked wetly into his hand, he heard a gentle knock at the bathroom door.

            “Are you alright?” Harry’s soothing voice called over the water.

            Niall cleared his throat and answered, “Fine,” but the scratch in his voice betrayed his claim. He turned the shower off and began to sluggishly dress himself. Just as he was tugging his sweatpants on, he felt an all too familiar rolling in his stomach. He lurched towards the toilet and threw the lid open before he was retching, substanceless acid burning his already raw throat.

            There was another hesitant knock before Harry pushed his head inside, eyes closed endearingly. “Are you decent?” he asks with a small laugh, failing miserably to keep the worry out of his voice.

            Niall wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and choked out a ‘yeah’ as he struggled to his feet, knees feeling weaker than usual.

            Harry opened his eyes as Niall started to cough violently again.

            Niall’s head began to spin, oxygen not making it past the phlegm clogging his lungs. “Harry,” he croaked helplessly.

            Harry was looking at him with a concerned expression as he pressed the back of his hand to Niall’s flushed cheek. “You’re burning up!” he exclaimed.

“I've got a therapy session,” Niall slurred stubbornly, swaying on his feet.

“Nope, we’re getting you in bed,” Harry said firmly. “You’re sick and if you try to walk across campus then you’ll pass out.” He gently guided Niall to his bed and laid him down before slipping in behind him and winding his arms around the smaller boy’s skeletal torso.

“What about you?” the blonde asked, too sick to put up any sort of pseudo-protest like he normally would.

“I’ll talk to the doctors for the both of us,” Harry promised, “For now, we sleep.”

”Okay,” Niall agreed. He was silent for a few minutes and Harry was just starting to think he’d fallen asleep when he heard it.

“I think I love you,” Niall whispered through his fevered haze.


	6. Flame

            When Niall got back to the room after his daily therapy session, he was surprised to find it empty. He knew Harry hadn’t had a session that morning and that he didn’t get on well with any of the other patients so he tended to stick to their room in any spare time he had.

            Walking farther into the room, Niall was filled with an inexplicable creeping suspicion. He quickly surveyed the room and noticed light spilling out from under the bathroom door. The faint sound of water running fueled his suspicion considering Harry only ever showered in the evenings so that he wouldn’t have to deal with wet hair all day.

            As he approached the bathroom, nearly silent whimpers could be heard over the sound of the rushing water. Niall’s already swift heartbeat accelerated as he gently eased the door open to find Harry hunched over the sink with his head down. It only took Niall a second to connect the steam rising from the water and the quiet sounds escaping Harry’s throat and then he was throwing the door the rest of the way open. “Harry!” he yelled, shocked.

            Harry whipped around at the sound of his name, sending hot water all over the bathroom. His eyes were wide with shock and ringed in red, matching his hands that were red and raw from the steamy water. “Shit, Niall,” he cursed, trying in vain to hide his arms behind his back.

            Niall stepped forward before he could and gently grabbed his wrists. _“Why?”_ was the only thing he could ask, voice hushed in disbelief as he searched Harry’s tearful gaze for the reason this beautiful boy was hurting himself.

            Harry dropped his eyes and drew his bottom lip between his teeth. “I fucked up, Niall,” he breathed after a while.

            “What happened?” Niall asked, shutting the tap off and dragging Harry through the room to fall onto his bed.

            “I’m so fucking weak!” he cried, pressing his face into Niall’s neck. “I can’t even make one simple mistake without… without fucking _relapsing!”_

            Niall placed his hands on Harry’s shoulders and pushed him back, forcing him to make eye contact, and Harry had never seen anything as intense as the fire burning in Niall’s eyes. “You are absolutely _perfect,_ Harry,” the older boy insisted, hands sliding down his arms to grip Harry’s sore wrists tightly in his bony hands. “You’re not stupid or weak or anything else that your brain is trying to tell you!”

Harry’s eyes shone hopefully, like he was _trying_ to believe Niall’s words but the demons in his head were still spitting insults at him. Niall could relate to the feeling.

“Relapse is a part of recovery,” the older boy continues. “You’re doing so good you don’t even _know,_ baby.”

“I’m not-“ Harry started, but was cut off and the heat that had been in Niall’s gaze was _nothing_ compared to the flames that erupted when their lips came together for the very first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i figured you guys would be sick of seeing broken!niall by now so i gave you a little taste of broken!harry :~))  
> i'm on [tumblr](http://stroran.tumblr.com) :)


End file.
